Attrition of the Gods: Book 1 of the Mystery Thriller series Gods Toys. (29 page)

“What about the Humanzees,” asks Adam. “Are they real?”

“Mmm, maybe. I’ve never seen one but the rumours are rife. They are believed to be part of Reuben’s devolution project: an attempt at creating a hybrid human and chimpanzee. There’s even rumours of other hybrids with humans. Most residents of Jinn believe the stories of the hybrids to be myth but I know Reuben from old and, trust me, it is very likely they do exist.”

Ember shudders she feels for these poor unfortunates who are discarded and treated as less than animals.

“But what do they do all day?” says Adam as they pass prone body after body after body. “Do they just lay down and wait to die?”

“Oh no,” says Baal. “Would you? No, there is a whole sub-society down here: traders, builders, medics… The place even has a council of sorts and their own police force. But the situation of starvation and illness is rampant. These tunnels here are the ones most frequently visited by outsiders and so are mainly avoided except for by the truly desperate.”

“Even the underworld has a caste system,” Ember says sadly.

Even knowing what to expect, Ember is still shocked by what she sees and Adam begins to wonder if Baal is intent on hiding down here for the foreseeable future; he begins to wish he’d taken his chances up top.

“Where are we going?” asks Adam.

“We need to get to the avenues at the end of this tunnel,” Baal explains, giving Ember hope that there was at least a plan of sorts.

“I have friends there who will be able to sneak us out of Jinn.”

“Out of Jinn??” Adam chokes. “But nothing can live outside the city! What about the pollution and radiation caused during the rapture?” Baal just shrugs. With a shake of his head and both arms out wide he looks at Ember for her reaction. His jaw drops as she smiles and he notices she looks relieved.

“If Baal says it’s okay then it has to be better than staying here,” she says.

A huge gully carrying raw sewage from the city appears, carrying several makeshift boats and rafts.

“This is the main form of transport through these tunnels,” says Baal. “The people literally wade through shit to get about.”

Baal waves down a small half-inflated raft that seems to have some form of crude motor, an adapted old farm machine that sucks up the sewage then forces it out.

“This is the luxury travel of the Pitts,” Baal tells them as he flags down the woman manning the boat. It also contains a hand operated up and down mechanism to steer it. There is one cushion for comfort. The tall, thin, dark-skinned woman slides the raft over to them. Ember stares at her, trying not to as she notices her left foot is missing. She does not notice, however, that this unfortunate woman has also had her left breast removed. This was her punishment for allowing a drunken Aryan soldier to “dirty his dick inside her foul black snatch” as the soldier’s wife politely put it when she and her mates conducted their own kangaroo court. This was another reason why the Pitts were so heavily subscribed, many just fell foul of racist Aryan citizens who would happily take the law into their own hands like modern-day lynch mobs.

Ember says nothing as they board her carriage, even as the woman stares at her suspiciously and Ember feels very conspicuous with her Aryan features and intact limbs. “We need to go to Deep Hole,” says Baal. “Just drop us as near as you can.” Adam detects a look of trepidation on the woman’s face at the mention of this place. He tries to assure himself that surely it cannot get worse.



Up above, back in Jinn City, Procurator Conrad Jones has ordered his man to clear the rubble from the blast that caused a collapse at the gate entrance. He is sure he saw Ember in the escalator just as the explosion occurred. She is alive at least, but she is entering a world she is not equipped to handle. He fears the Pitts will be too much for his delicate little girl – too much for any girl, or grown man for that matter. Still, at least she is alive he reminds himself as he watches his men remove the debris while Colin Mackie and Solfrid watch on.

“You are wasting your time,” comments the High Priestess.

Conrad is no fan of Solfrid but he must admit to being impressed by her skill with the dart. Still, he knows she would not think twice about killing his daughter if she felt it was the best action.

“We need to enter via a different gate,” she sighs impatiently.

There are four official entrances into the Pitts: Purgatory Gate, Black Gate, Thomas Gate and the Espino Tunnel set in the first favela. Conrad estimates that even with a siren blaring and total free airspace it will take thirty minutes to get to any of them.

“Are there no steps down or a service entrance?” he asks Colin.

“Service entrance?” laughs Colin. “No. Only the descent pod, which unfortunately your daughter and her friends have blown up.”

Red instinctively puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder to stop him saying anything he may regret. “He is not worth it,” says Red. “We need to find your little girl and then you can deal with that bollocks over there, okay?”

Conrad nods. He tells his men to carry on digging as he, Red, Solfrid and Colin get back in the lead vehicle and head for the Black Gate.



The boat taxi pulls to a stop at their destination and lets the three passengers off. The tall, thin black woman holds her hand out for payment. Ember explains her chip is not working so she can’t give her credits. Baal laughs and the black girl screws up her face with a look of disgust.

“You can’t spend them down here anyway,” explains Baal as he pulls out the severed hand he used earlier and gives it to her. The girl is not impressed but takes it. As the raft leaves, Adam and Ember both notice a hum from the distance. Baal walks off and they follow to see a distinct bright red light ahead. As they get closer the tunnel opens out to a Citadel of underground stone buildings. The noise of music and the smell of alcohol confirm that this is a place of recreation.

A sign reads: Welcome to Gomorrah, Sodom all.

There are people everywhere. Unlike the rest of Jinn City every race, creed and colour seems to be represented and most are drunk or stoned. A fight breaks out; not the clumsy fist fighting Adam may have seen in his street, nor was it anything like the tournament fighting Ember watched the day she sneaked into the temple. This was violent, bloody, bone-snapping, skin-tearing brawling.

Baal takes them into a tavern with a hanging carpet as a door. The place has a bar, tables, lots of occupied seats and even a stage. There’s a forlorn-looking man covered in welts on the stage, tied to a post so that people can throw stuff at him. Adam is more distracted by the naked women, most badly mutilated, parading around the room, getting grabbed at by random men who molest them.

“Sex and violence is all that they have left.” Baal says quietly as they sit at a makeshift table. “Don’t you worry though, no one in here will harm you. You are with me. Now we need to wait for my friend to come meanwhile you may witness some of life’s more sinful behaviour. This will not kill you, so try not to be too offended.”

Ember watches the activities with curiosity. She realises very soon that although there is a lot of rowdy activity, the majority of people were actually enjoying themselves, even the girls didn’t seem too averse to getting molested up against the bar while their suitors pulled them around by their hair. She is mesmerised by it all: hands and mouths all over each other, bodies writhing and screams that Ember can’t work out if derived from pain or pleasure. She witnesses an abundance of naked flesh but it is not like the beautiful carved figurines at the museum or even the old-fashioned photographs she’d found of naked men and women in her dad’s room that day. No, this flesh is covered in puss-filled sores, welts and burns, matted hair and caked in dirt. She can’t look away but the scene is beginning to make her feel nauseous. Adam also feels he should look away but can’t either. Ember occasionally looks at him but his eyes are elsewhere, his mouth open. Her mind thinks back to their shy and immature discussion of sex earlier and she blushes at her naivety.

Eventually three huge black guys enter the bar, amidst them a small black boy who wears a trilby hat and carries a small paper bag. Baal waves and the boy dismisses his entourage and joins the trio.

“What’cha Baal, my yellow nigger,” says the boy and Ember watches curiously as the two men enter into some sort of ritual handshake. “Boiled sweet?” he asks her, sitting down.

“Oh, no. No, thank you,” she says, looking dubiously at the colourful contents of the paper bag.

“Chamuel, this is Ember Jones,” Baal says to the boy. “She has been compromised and the Mackies are tracking her down.”

The boy, Chamuel, looks Ember up and down. He can’t be more than eighteen, she thinks.

“Girl, you looking just like ya mammy.” He smiles warmly at her.

Ember is shocked. Ridiculous! Firstly how could a young black boy have ever known her high-born Aryan mum? Secondly she knows she does not look like her mum, quite the opposite. In fact she barely resembled either of her parents. “We found you under a tree,” her mum would often joke to explain this.

Before she can question Chamuel, Baal interrupts. “We need to get these two out of the city now and get them to the camp. Raphael has been captured. I witnessed it. Solfrid was there. She took him down.”

A sudden look of anger appears in place of Chamuel’s smile. “That no-good, blonde daughter of a bitch. Why does she not fuck off and die?”

He stands and calls over the three black men, whispering into the ear of the largest, then he turns back to the table. “Okay kids, time to rock and roll. Baal, you wait here, they will probably track you to this place so you’re going to have to take one for the team. We will move faster without your fat ass holding us up anyway, so you stay here and hold them off. My boys will help you and I’d guess most of these good people will come to your aid as well. Motherfuckers love a fight. You two,” he says to Adam and Ember, “are coming with your Uncle Chamuel, so let’s get de fuck outta dodge.”

Baal reaches for Chamuel and slips him the disc. Chamuel places it under his hat. They leave with this new stranger in a hurry, Adam and Ember once again looking at each other as if for reassurance.

Chamuel leads them through a maze of alleyways, often strewn with people fighting and copulating, eventually getting back to the path running alongside the sewer channel. They jog down the track for a mile until the number of people dwindles to nothing and then they reach a weir with several outflow pipes. The waste water can be heard picking up speed when it enters these pipes, suggesting a steep drop on the other side. Chamuel hunts around for something in the dark behind where Ember stands. He makes a triumphant noise and returns with two elongated fibreglass oval boards.

“Ah, me old surfboards! I knew you’d come in handy one day.” He kisses the bigger of the boards then explains what must be done. “Right, we need to take the third waste pipe; it should open soon. Ember, you get on old faithful here with me. Adam, you take the small one. We’ll tie them together and I’ll lead. Now don’t be flash or anything, just lie belly down and paddle to that tunnel.”

“Which tunnel?” says Adam, looking a little daunted.

“That one on the right. Not that one. And definitely not that storm drain on the left-hand side,” Chamuel says. “There will be a current so stay behind me and you should be fine. Okay, get on your board.”

Adam is hoping that he has misunderstood but knows he hasn’t. He is expected to get onto this thin floating bit of plastic and paddle through the shit and waste of the city, then direct it to the entrance of a waste pipe, hurtle down said waste pipe – which is also full of shit – to god knows where while holding on for dear life, hoping he doesn’t fall into the shit!

“No fucking way am I getting on that little thing and going down through one of them fucking death traps! Are you mental?”

Chamuel seems unfazed as he places his board in the water and gently slides across from the bank so that he is now kneeling on it.

“Look mate, shit is shit,” says Chamuel. “And twenty-second-century shite is just the same as twenty-first-century shite and believe me I’ve waded through that too. Now, it ain’t pleasant, but if you don’t follow me you will be caught and I promise you, you will beg for shite in your hair if those Mackies get hold of you.”

Ember is already sliding onto the back of Chamuel’s board. Adam groans but relents and places his smaller board in the shitty water.

“Okay, we are not travelling first class any more, people,” says Chamuel. “Make sure you go down the right hand tunnel. Do not go down the pipe on the left! I repeat, do not go down the left-hand one. Understand?”

Adam’s question on what is down the left pipe is ignored as Chamuel continues with his instructions. Ember, who has resigned herself to do whatever it takes to get out of this hellhole, very gingerly slides across and kneels up behind Chamuel. This morning she would have been questioning every step of this but somehow it just seems easier to accept her fate and trust these bizarre strangers. At least she isn’t alone, she thinks to herself, looking at Adam as he struggles to mount his board without falling.

Adam is not looking convinced.

“Get on, Adam. We have no choice.” Ember asserts herself, knowing Adam will not leave her to face this peril alone. He is just about the only thing keeping her sane and stopping her from completely losing her cool at this point. She looks him in the eye, lips tight, and he knows not to question. He finally settles onto his board.

“Take the ropes tightly,” says Chamuel. “If you fall in, keep hold, and the board will at least pull you along. Now we need to shimmy these things out into the water.” Chamuel dips his hands into the putrid water and paddles out towards the middle. “I christen this boat Solfrid,” he declares, “as it’s as flat as her tits and stiff as her bony ass!”

Ember can’t help but feel horrified at this mocking of the High Priestess she has revered all her life, but maybe it’s time to change. Instead she worries that the pipe is not wide enough. She imagines them blocking the entrance, causing a dam of waste water, which will envelope them and for certain kill them. What a way to go, she thinks, drowned in faeces.